Memories
by fangthane
Summary: Looking into the past of the darkest evil to ever haunt a city.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue: 

As the clatter of rain struck the aluminum roof, the sound echoed in his head. Batman peered over the roof edge again looking down the alley. He had been on the same roof every night for a week and he was getting irritated. The information he had received was from a good source, a very good source. Gunther Harkness, street punk and sometime pot dealer, had his ear out for any tips. He would relay them via a loose brick behind the Pornotpia Theater. Batman grabbed Gunther as he fell from a rooftop running from rival dealers. He paid The Bat back with information. Batman slowly turned and slid to a sitting position. He spoke out loud to himself.

"Rain. All it ever does here is rain. It's like something is trying to wash away the filth, the scum, with no success."

He retrieved his Starbucks cup and sipped the Komodo Dragon blend. Placing the cup under a roof vent to save it from the rain, Batman again read the note Harkness had left.

_"The alley between the Branoslovski Hotel and the Creamy Eye Peep show, a big deal going down I don't know when or what."_

Closing his eyes, he listened to the rain hit his cowl. The Kevlar was bullet proof and could actually deal with flames, but it wasn't water proof. He could feel dampness seeping inside the suit, soaking his body.

"I hate the damn rain."

The noise of a car, slowly cruising up the alley drew his attention. Slowly, he moved so as not to upset the aluminum roof. As he did, his Starbucks spilled on his knee. He ignored the warm feeling and watched as two men exit a small import, both with heavy garbage bags. One individual dropped his bag in a puddle, the other held his firm. From the end of the alley, the darker end, another car approached.

Batman slowly stepped over the roof edge and walked quietly down the fire escape. He smiled as he walked remembering all the media hype of him swinging from ropes and crashing through windows. He did at times, but it was a necessity. It was not something that he enjoyed doing.

Stopping at the second floor, Batman crouched and prepared to jump. The car that had been approaching stopped and turned on its lights. Batman realized he was now visible and an easy target.

"THE BAT!"

Batman jumped from the fire escape rail and landed in a run heading for the bag men. The driver opened fire with what Batman could identify as an Uzi. Both bag men ran, one in his confusion ran right into the Dark Knight. Batman was about to round house kick the thug, but bullets ripped through the man. He jerked, tripping over the bag and fell dead at Batman's feet. Then the rounds hit him, he felt each one as it slammed into the body armor.

Batman shoulder rolled into the darkness and as he came upright, he snagged one of the bags. Batman hurled it at the driver. The bag erupted as bullets tore it apart spraying the alley with blood. Batman regained his footing and was instantly blinded as blood and bits of skin hit his face. He realized the bag was full of body parts. He rubbed his mask quickly with one hand and reached for a small grenade on the small of his back. The shooter, who was half out the car window, was stunned a moment and looking at what was all over him. Then his attention was diverted as a small metal canister landed next to the car door. Batman swung his cape around him as the flash bang detonated, the flash lit the alley like daylight. The shooter began to fire blindly screaming. Batman moved behind the car as his reaction wasn't quick enough. The other bag man and all in the other car ran away.

"Well one is better then none." He said, as he approached the driver

The gunman stomped the accelerator. Batman jumped on the roof and grabbed thewindow frame, the car hurled forward into the street.

"Jeez! Ya think the night could get more difficult? "Batman said to himself.

The gunner fired the machinegun through the roof, the rounds hitting his trauma plate built into the armor. Batman reared back and smashed his fist through the damaged roof, grabbing the driver by the back of his neck. The driver pulled the trigger again, and the gun spewed its last rounds

"Get off you fucking pointed eared freak! " The gunner screamed.

The driver spun the steering wheel left, as the car slid sideways. Batman's body swung outwards, as he hung on to the hole in the roof. A mime on the street gasped as Batman's legs smashed into him, throwing the street entertainer in the air. With exaggerated arm gestures, the mime gave Batman the finger.

Batman yanked upward as hard as he could, the drivers head smashed into the roof. The roof near Batman's face dented upward, the punk was unconscious.

Looking ahead, Batman had just a moment to see the construction site the car was racing towards. The car crashed through a set of bright orange cones and dropped over a six foot ledge. Batman flew off the roof and landed hard on a pile of dirt, his momentum caused him to roll off it into a workbench. The car was now jammed at an awkward angle on the ledge.

With a grunt, Batman climbed to his feet. He staggered a moment then walked to the car. Inside, the punk was moaning and trying to grab the door handle.

Batman grabbed the door and forced it open, grabbing the driver as he fell out. "Freak is it; all I wanted was just an easy night. I spilled my Starbucks, found a new construction site and look like crap."

It would be a long walk back to the crime scene. The punk now in flexi cuffs, adding weight to the journey. It took an hour of lugging to get back to the alley. To Batman's surprise, there was no police.

"Machine gun fire, cars screaming about and nothing." He dropped the punk and looked at the debris.

In the pile, was an arm a torso and a hand. "What you guys do, put him in a blender?"

The punk struggled to a sitting position. "I aint saying nothing without a lawyer."

Batman smiled, "Do I look like I am arresting you?"

With that the punk realized what position he was in.

"You see I only help the police. Actually, I feel it's better to just kill trash like you and drop it in the river." Batman whispered.

The punk's face became ashen, "You can't do that. You're like a good guy. You're like a fucking hero."

Batman moved close to the punk's face. "I can do anything, and who will stop me."

The punk began to cry. It only took several minutes till the punk revealed the victims name.

Batman called Detective Sergeant Prescott. "Yes, the alley next to the….yes that place. Well this fine upstanding citizen says its crime boss Giovanni Mannetti. Ok…and make sure the meat wagon brings a lot of bags."

It was another victim of a major gang war that was going on, something so large, Batman could do nothing but watch and deal with what he could.

Batman waited till the first police unit arrived, then he climbed back up the fire escape.

Walking across several roofs, he called Alfred. "Come get me, I will be near Prescott Park in an hour. Is the car fixed yet?"

Alfred Pennyworth sighed on the phone. "Not yet. You know I have a dickens of a time with the fuel balance."

Batman smiled, "Well you will get it eventually. Just come get me as soon as you can."

Batman walked down a stairwell on a roof to an elevator. As he waited, his reflection in the brass elevator door took him aback. He was covered in blood from head to toe and dirt had matted on his suit. On his arm, small pieces of skin and other matter was stuck. He slowly closed the Razr phone and fell slightly backwards against a wall. Sliding to the floor, he closed his eyes and tried to bury the image. As he opened them and looked at the reflection again, his father stood in the image.

"Why are you doing this Bruce?"

Batman gasped; closing his eyes he shook his head violently and looked again. The image was gone.

Fighting the urge to cry, he stood.

He rode the elevator down and went home.

Bernie

Bernedette Smalley carefully prepared her tea. Her body was being ravaged by Parkinson's disease and her hands trembled. She poured the steaming liquid into her favorite tea cup, and dropped a cube of sugar into it. "Now the hard part, getting to the couch." She said to herself.

"OK Bernie, you can do this." She said out loud.

Putting the small china cup on the saucer, she walked to her living room. Her frail body shook uncontrollably and she bit her lip as some of the tea splashed her hand. A few more uneasy steps and she would be there. Barry Shimkis was on TV in a while and she never missed Barry. Placing the saucer on an end table, she exhaled in relief. Shuffling in her pink fluffy slippers she fell backwards into her new couch. The couch had been another gift in a series of items sent to her by a mysterious benefactor. When she was low on money, it came in the mail. When the Boys Home needed repair and the city dragged its feet, it would be repaired. Who it was intrigued her, it was nice to know who ever it was, was there.

She smiled and adjusted her bottom on the new couch. .

"Ooooo, yes soft and nice!"

Glancing at the wall behind her television, hundreds of black and white pictures, all somewhat looking like mug shots, covered the dull flowered wall.

"My boys my dear dear boys, what will I ever do now." She shook her gray haired head. "I am jobless well retired but still jobless." She turned her head slightly and looked at the plaque the mayor had given her for "service to the community" and "selfless tasks." All those year's she had felt like she meant something, not so now, she was alone. No one even came to see her anymore. Her life as the director of "Gotham Home for Wayward Boys" was over.

Remote now in hand, she turned up the volume of her television. Behind her, unseen, something moved. It approached stealth, walking with care to remain silent. Bernie placed the tea cup back on its dish as something jumped on her. She screamed as her cat Shamus landed in her lap.

"Damn it Shamus, you like to scare the crap out of me!"

The cat climbed on the back of the couch just behind her head. Its attention now on another object. The backdoor of the house slowly opened the silhouette placed lock pick tools back in a pouch and dropped it in its pocket. Each step was placed slowly. The floor creaked and the figure stopped. With no reaction from the woman, it continued forward. Bernie continued to watch her television not hearing the figure as it moved closer to her. Shamus watched curious, a glint of something shiny in the figures hand caught the feline's eyes. The cat ran and hid beneath a book shelf. It wore black and dark gray camouflage from head to toe, its eyes only visible through a mask.

"What's wrong you old coot, you seem in a weird mood and no your not getting fed yet."

The figure now stood behind Bernie, it looked down at her, beneath its mask, a smile.

It grabbed Bernie by the chin and forced her head back. She gasped and looked upside-down at the attacker. "Hi Bernie!" It muffled under the mask. A scream began but was cut short as the attacker sliced her throat from ear to ear. The arterial spray splashed the black and white photos covering them in red. Her hand gripped the remote in a death lock, the channels switching rapidly.

The attacker held her head firm, actually aiming the blood so it hit the photos, certain photos. Bernedette shook, her hand smashing the tea cup, a gurgle sound from her lips. She stared at the photos, eyes unblinking. The blood sprayed, and then slowly ebbed. The attacker let go, the head fell backwards, held to the body by several sinews of muscle.

It walked towards the wall of pictures, footsteps making gurgling sounds on the blood soaked carpet. Shamus, now covered in blood, watched the attacker and attempted to clean himself.

The attacker sung as he walked. "Memories, hmmmm, hmmmm, from the pages of my mind….misty mmmmm"

Looking at the photos, he focused on one, and scraped the blood aside to see it closer. The boy in the picture smiled broadly. A light of glee on his face.

"The way we where……."

With a loud laugh, the attacker began to dance in the blood. He stopped and slowly leaned into an elaborate bow for Bernie. Jumping, he danced again, zeal in his step, he laughed uncontrollably.  
Reaching without looking, the attacker flipped the phone receiver off the hook and dialed 911.

"911 dispatch, what is your emergency."

"A murder has taken place at 95 Bushnell Terrace, a horrible murder…"

"Your name please…"

The attacker smiled beneath his mask. "Name…I am Memories, and I have just begun."

"What, Memories… can you say that again?"

He grabbed her head and looked into her eyes. "All you had to do was pay attention to me, that's all I wanted." With a twist, he separated the head from the body and continued to speak.  
"So pretty, so so pretty." He placed the head on the bookshelf and stood back. With a quick snap, he snatched Shamus by the neck and lifted it eye level, the cat hissed and began to scratch against the glove. "Little cat, look, look and see." Memories put the cats face against the smudged photo. "That's him, see how he smiles, he smiles all the time." Twisting in a dance spin, Memories put the cat's nose against a clean picture. "This is me, see, no smile, no hope, nothing."

Shamus swung both his legs up and scratched Memories exposed wrist. The killer glared in anger and threw the cat at the wall. With a thud the cat hit a painting and landed on its paws. Memories made a motion to grab it again, but the cat ran into another room.

Memories walked toward the back door. Behind him, Bernadette stared at him as he exited. Her eyes glazed over, a small drip of blood fell from her lips. Memories walked into the night.

The Bentley Limo slowly stopped behind Bruce Wayne's mansion. Alfred exited quickly and opened the door for his employer, his friend. Batman carefully climbed out as not to mess up the car further. As he walked, a bullet slug came loose from his belt and fell to the ground. The butler picked it up and looked at it.

"If I may say sir, er… You look a fright."

Batman walked dragging his feet towards a small set of stairs. He looked over his shoulder as he spoke.

"Well true I have looked better; the job seems to get messier as time goes."

Alfred followed down the stairs to an old door, its windows musty and brown. Batman opened it and walked down the long dark hall to his wine cellar. Alfred casually turned the spout on a huge wine barrel activating the door release. With a hiss, air locks released the wall Batman walked through the opening with out hesitation. The wine cellar lit brightly as the wall opened, behind it, the cave.

Batman slid his thumbs under the jaw section of his cowl. Alfred had seen him do this a million times but each time; his friend seemed to look more disappointed. Alfred heard a click as the cowl released from the combat chest section. Batman pulled the mask off and dropped it on a table. As he did, Alfred removed the cape; more bullet slugs fell to the floor.

"To bad used ammunition is not valuable."

Bruce looked at Alfred with a smile.

"Yes we would be rich, well richer. Alfred did you get the car fixed?"

Alfred glanced toward the car, one of six; the one he looked at was the most dangerous of them all.

"Yes sir, the fuel mix is correct now, but you know this should not be driven in the city, the jet is much too powerful for such an area."

"Well the others have some sort of flaw, that one is to slow, that one smells of fuel and that one squeaks"  
Alfred smiled, "Squeak's, my my how the city would shudder if they knew their protector hated squeaks."

Bruce stood and retrieved a robe on a hook. "I don't like squeaks."

Alfred began to pick up the parts of his suit. It would easily take him a week to clean and repair it. Bruce stood and looked in a full length mirror, his robe slightly open. Opening it further, he groaned as muscles ached. Across his chest, several large bruises.

Bruce walked towards the elevator. "Alfred can you bring me some Tylenol and a glass of Merlot."

Alfred popped a bullet from the chest emblem. "Yes sir, right away."

Several days would pass. The police would investigate the murder of a retired city employee, but the gang wars took most of the authority's attention. The file was placed in the "to be investigated ASAP" basket on the Chief Detectives desk. At Arkum Asylum, a clown began his daily recreation.

The paint was non toxic and more for a child but Jack Napier didn't care, he loved art and it was his only time through the day to relax. On the canvas, a small child stood on a balcony crying. A nerve twitch stopped Jack cold, his face, a continual smile, never did heal correctly. Jack sat a moment, dizzy from the pain.

"I need my meds god damn it, where the hell is that stupid orderly?"

Doctor Heinrich Muller sat behind a large antique desk. His glasses had fallen down his nose a bit as he woke suddenly from an unauthorized nap. He sat upright and stretched his weary muscles.

"Jack, relax they will be here in a second. That's a nice painting you have there, but why is there always someone suffering in your paintings?"

Jack shook his head trying to subdue the facial pain. "I paint what I feel, and don't patronize me Doctor, it's below you. Why is it you just can't talk to me, a little conversation, something other than to analyze me."

Napier flexed his jaw, the pain subsided. He tried to force his mouth back into position now out of sheer normality, but it failed. He would be like this forever.

Napier glanced at the doctor. He watched as the psychiatrist fell asleep again, his face hidden from the prison camera's behind the newspaper. Jack pinched a page from the newspaper the doctor held and placed it under his painting. "Gotta be neat, or they will take my freaking art privileges." He began to paint again, this time with more elaborate strokes. Paint dripped from his brush to the newsprint. Joker glanced at the page, the obituary section. "How nice, the dead section, my favorite, its like the comics, always makes me smile." Jack glanced at the listings and stopped painting as he recognized a name. Tears fell from Jokers green eyes. He stumbled backwards into a chair and brought the paper with him, his art fell to the table. He read the article further on how Bernedette Smalley was murdered.

"No, not you…not you, oh god not you."

Joker brought the paper to his face and cried, his head fell in his arms on the table.

Doctor Muller mumbled something and burped. Joker's head rose slowly, rage in his eyes. He was aware of the camera coverage. He forced a smile and stood with his paintbrush. Walking with a swagger, Joker sat on the edge of the Doctors desk and leaned toward him. Slowly, Joker pushed the paintbrush through the newspaper and toward the Doctors eye. When the point made contact, he forced it into the Doctors brain. Muller gasped and almost fell from his chair. Joker grabbed the back of the doctor's head and held him upright, shoving the brush further in.

Joker stood and danced, acting like he was talking to the doctor. Stopping, he leaned towards the dead physician and retrieved his cell phone. "Ah yes, I knew you wouldn't give this to the guards. So precious is your practice, you need to hear from all your patients." Joker returned to his art table and picked up his painting. Propping it up again, he used it to block the view of the camera. With ease, he thumbed the number to the one person he could count on. "Helloooooo Harleen!"

"YES OF COURSE ITS ME YOU DITZ!" He yelled.

"Yes, just like we discussed, yes, an hour, ok, toddles sweets." Joker closed the phone and dropped it into a can of paint. He stood and curtsied to the dead Doctor, and exited the art department. Walking quickly, he passed several inmates. As he did, he whispered to each. "Escape in one hour, west wall by the cafeteria." Most smiled, and made their way to the west section of Arkam. Some just looked at the white faced clown and ignored him. Joker would remember them, he knew he would end up back in the asylum, and he would make those not participating suffer. After telling as many inmates as he could, he hurried back to the art department.

Guard Brendan Smith struggled up the metal ladder. He slipped now and then due to the rungs being wet. The rain would not let up and Arkum was ancient. No elevators, just ladders. With a grunt, he pushed open the hatch and pulled himself up into the tower. Barkawi Shinzdeep, a large Fiji guard sat asleep in the tower. Brendan shook him slightly. "Hey you're relieved, wake up asshole."

Barkawi yawned and smacked his lips. "Ok, thanks, it's been all quiet, nothing to report."

Brendan turned from the half awake guard as he heard a vehicle outside the West wall. He grabbed a pair of binoculars from the desk and peered through them.

Outside the wall a large panel truck struggled against the mud road. Brendan focused on the driver, but the windows where tinted. "What the hell, it's a truck."

Barkawi grabbed his M-16 and charged it, putting a round into the chamber.

Brendan concentrated on the trucks side. He saw a picture of a bouquet of flower and some writing, which he read aloud. "When you care to send…the very…blast?"

He looked at Barkawi with an eyebrow raised. A moment later, the truck exploded. Both guards and the tower disintegrated. The West wall collapsed inward, inmates too close to the wall where crushed. Those that survived climbed over the debris and ran to freedom.

Joker entered the art section as the explosion occurred. He stopped a second and grinned. "Ah Harley, always so punctual." Joker glanced up at the camera and laughed. With a quick snap, he grabbed two colors of paint and poured them into an empty can. Closing his eyes and holding his breath, he splashed the can on his face. The paint, light tan gave his skin a more normal appearance.

"The things I do for my public."

He walked towards the art section door grabbing the doctor's coat and hat. He stopped and looked at the doctor, the brush still protruding from his face. "Now you don't go anywhere, you…keep an eye on my art ok." At that the Joker walked out, down the stairs and exited the main gate. No guard stopped him.

Bruce Wayne spun on the dance floor, his arms around an unknown woman. He laughed and let her go causing her to nearly fall into a table. She caught her balance and glared at him.

"Look just because you're rich, doesn't mean you can be rude."

Bruce stopped dancing, the club was packed and the laser lights where flashing everywhere. He snatched a drink off a waiter as he walked by and downed it. He dropped the glass on the floor breaking it and smiled to his dance partner.

"You can leave anytime; I think I can find another piece of ass to keep me happy tonight."

The girl gasped, she tried to respond but could not seem to find the words. Finally she screamed. "Look mother fucker, money or not, kicking your ass would be a pleasure if I wouldn't get tossed out of the club."

Bruce motioned to a bouncer, and then pointed to the woman. "You don't have to worry, your out."

The bouncer grabbed the girl and lifted her off her feet. She kicked wildly but to no avail. Her screams could be heard in the club as the bouncer literally tossed her in the air, out of the club.

Bruce walked to the side door and out to his Bentley. Alfred stood outside with an umbrella waiting.

"I hope you had fun sir, I saw the young lady land in the dumpster. I would say, good throw, thank god it had refuse in it."

Bruce climbed in the limo. Yes I had fun, although the rich playboy booze womanizer put on I do gets irritating. I do need to talk to the bouncers, that's not called for." Bruce closed his eyes a moment, and then felt the vibration of his cell phone. Not his normal one, a cell phone only certain people had the number of. He opened it and answered.

"Batman."

The voice on the speaker was Bill Shuster, the night morgue attendant. "Bat's you asked me to call you if I had any weird stuff happen at the morgue, well this guy walked in passed me and well he looks... like a clown. Should I call the bulls?" Bruce pulled open the seat compartment next to him. Inside was a Bat suit.

"No, I will take care of it, don't get in his way, and don't make him angry. And above all…don't shake his hand."

"OK Bat's, I think its time for a long coffee break, I'll see ya."

The Bentley roared across town as Bruce changed into Batman.

Alfred lowered the limo passenger divider.

"Joker?"

Bruce pulled the cowl over his head, the locking clips latched with a loud click. "Yes, but why the morgue, he only goes there when he needs to cheer up. He just escaped; I would think he would hide somewhere. Oh well, I have been to busy with the gang wars this may be fun. "

Joker had never been to the morgue. He walked in and immediately smelled the decay. He adjusted the dark purple coat and turquoise bow tie. Harleen had picked him up outside Arkam and was well prepared for him. He looked at his reflection in a window pane. "A ham sandwich, my clothes and a long wet kiss. Ahhh yes life is good." His pace was still wary; he walked past a corpse on a gurney parked along a wall. Looking at it closer, he brought his hand to his mouth. "Gus?" Joker grabbed the toe tag and lifted it to read, the leg came loose and dangled. Joker read. "Benidito Gustov Sartuchio." He dropped the leg and shook his head. "Wow Gus, you're looking good, you lost some weight I see. Still running the Benson Hill gang? Well you relax; you just look dead on your foot."

Ahead, Joker focused on the freezer door. On the door, he noticed a list of names in alphabetical order. Running a gloved finger down the list, he found her name, closed his eyes and leaned his head on the cold metal door and remembered.

He was six years old and arrived at the Home. He had a bag made from a quilt blanket his Aunt had made. In it, was everything he owned, a pair of pants, a shirt and a picture of his mother. He retrieved the picture and looked at it. Her smile was so bright; it was still bright when she died. He put the picture away and lugged the bag up the large granite steps. On the top of the steps, she stood. Her hair was black as coal and her lips bright red. Jack first thought it was Betty Davis. He scowled and tried to put on a tough guy look. She looked close and laughed. "You can look all tough, but the quilt bag sort of kills the image." He dropped the bag and laughed. She reached down and took his hand. The feeling of being touched made him miss his mother. He began to cry.

Joker wept. Opening the door filled the hallway with white mist. He raised his head and walked in slowly. She was the only one on a table, the others hung from hooks on the ceiling. The macabre scene would have normally made him laugh, but nothing could do that now. He walked almost like a child to her. Small steps, stopping every so often. As he got next to her, he moved the white sheet down and gasped. He looked at what had been done to her and screamed.

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning!**

**Warning! This story is rated M for mature. This story contains adult situations, strong language and gore.**

**I am posting this special writing due to the graphic description of gore and related issues.**

**Please do not send me any angry e-mails**

**Warning!**

Disclaimer: I do not nor would I ever claim to own or control anything about Batman or anything created by Bob Kane. Anything that resembles Batman or anything related to Batman is the sole ownership of those involved. Since I was old enough to go to the local theater and watch the black and white serials of Batman, I have been transfixed by him and his world. I read and researched him and all those he came in contact with. I hope I can bring to the readers an enjoyable adventure and something new to a character I love.

My Past

Batman moved with caution down the hallway. Avoiding bright lights of offices, he glanced at a window pane. In it he saw his father standing behind him, blood pouring from his eyes. "Why are you doing this son?"

Batman closed his eyes and concentrated. "He is dead…he is dead."

As he opened them, a scream made him jump. Down the hall, a freezer door was ajar, white mist crawled from it. He moved towards it, ready for anything. Outside the door, he listened to a familiar voice. The Joker.

"I made sure the roof was fixed and I hope you liked the new couch, pale blue, your favorite. And the gas reader was overcharging you so he kind of vanished. We…won't go into that."

Joker gradually looked up as Batman entered the freezer. "How come you can't keep people like me from people like her?"

Batman glanced at the corpse. "A victim of yours?" Joker began to cry and shake but a laugh escaped his trembling lips. "You know, you may be right. I may be the cause of this in a way"  
Batman had never seen the Joker so intense, his eyes filled with rage.

Joker spread his arms wide and spun yelling. BUT I WILL FILL THIS MORGUE WITH BODIES UNTIL I FIND OUT WHO KILLED HER!"

Batman crossed his arms across his emblem.

"I think you need a Prozac cocktail and a padded room..." He hadn't finished the sentence when he heard the stiletto heels behind him. Spinning in a combat stance, he raised his arms in a cross pattern to protect his face, the only exposed part. A cadaver on a hook smashed into him knocking him backwards. He stumbled a moment but regained his footing. Behind the cadaver, Doctor Harleen Quinzell AKA Harlee Quinn pulled several playing cards from her latex top. She jumped into the air spinning. Landing, she hurled the razor cards at Batman.

The Dark Knight had dealt with the cards before and she was the most accurate. Batman brought his gauntlet to his face. Sparks flashed as the three cards ricocheted off his arm. Two cards spun into cadavers, one flew back at Harlee slicing her left ear.

"ARGHHH SON OF A BITCH!" She screamed.

Joker had already escaped out the door. "Come now Harlee, daddy has some people to murder."

Harlee stepped back and slammed the freezer door. She glared at Joker, blood dripped from her ear to her shoulder. "Look at me, the mother fucker did that on purpose!" Joker slipped the Rolex off Gustov's wrist and slid it on his own. He smiled and looked at Harlee. "Looks good huh?" Harlee stomped passed him. He continued to smile as he followed.

Batman looked down at the door handle, or where it should be. Reaching to the small of his back, Batman removed a Batarang popping it open with a wrist flick. With effort, he dug the weapon into the lock mechanism opening the door.

As he exited, he opened his cell phone and hit auto dial. "Jim, can you bring me copies of anything you got on the murder of Bernedette Smalley. Yes I'll meet you at Bill's place."

Bill, the huge Grizzly Bear yawned and snorted. Jim Gordon had stood outside the bear's cage many times. The Gotham Zoo was the best place to meet, quiet and desolate. From the darkness, Batman appeared. Jim Gordon jumped. "I ask you time and time again to make a noise or something."

Batman smiled. His old friend was looking tired. "You OK, you look exhausted."

Commissioner Gordon sighed. "It's this gang war. Six more killed, and…two kids caught in the crossfire. I have everyone on the street, and it just isn't enough."

He handed Batman a large folder. "Here is all we have on the murder. Hey do me a favor; Mayor Bradford is hot on this one. He lived at that home when he was a kid, and wants this "Memories" strung up."

Batman thumbed through the folder. "Not much, I will have to go look the scene over. Can you get me into it without a hassle?"

Jim Gordon smiled. "I will assign Sgt Alcott tomorrow night. You remember her don't you?"

Batman remembered Linda Alcott. A rookie cop who took on three bank robbers as they ran from Gotham National Bank shooting at everything. She dropped two of them with ease, but the third shot her in the face. The bullet hit her jaw and slid along the bone exiting under her ear. She lay there looking up as the punk aimed at her head to finish the job. Batman dropped from a wall above the shooter landing on the backs of his legs. He remembered the joyful sound of both the punks' limbs breaking.

"Yes I remember her, thanks Jim, I will be in touch."

Batman walked to his new car. The armor plated canopy slid up and backwards. Climbing in was more difficult then the other models, this one was more confined. The car had two eight cylinder motors to drive the wheels, and a F100 Pratt & Whitney jet engine for speed if necessary. He stomped the accelerator the car roared off towards the outskirts of the city, toward Wayne Manor.

Memories walked to the large window in the living room. The apartment was nice, to rich for his standards. Behind him, the owner of the apartment, Millard Norwood sat duct taped to a chair.

Memories eyes focused on him. "I want to thank you for letting me use your apartment. Its lovely, I especially love the kitchen."

Reaching into a thigh pouch, Memories produced a pair of pliers. "You don't seem to be listening to me. I am complimenting you, and I don't compliment that often. Here let me help you listen."

Memories grabbed Norwood's hair and clasped one of his ears with the pliers. With a yank, he ripped it off. Norwood screamed under the duct tape gag. Memories dropped the bloody ear on the floor. "Now you can hear me better."

Memories placed the pliers on a table and picked up a pair of binoculars. He looked at the apartment across the courtyard, at Harleen Quinzell's apartment.

Joker woke screaming. He sat up in a sweat damp bed. Next to him, Harlee slept. He shook his head to wake up further. Stepping out of bed, he quietly walked to the window. Looking outside, he saw a shooting star. "Shooting star so dull with plight, can I cut some throat tonight. Star so pretty, my life you save, let's go dance on someone's grave!" He giggled and sighed.

Jack turned and went back to bed. When he finally slept, he dreamed. Bernie walked across the chow hall of the Boy's Home. She moved like an angel, her skirt billowing behind her. Jack sat stuffing a sandwich in his coat for later. She turned as she walked and looked at him. His heart pounded, he smiled as she blew him a kiss. Her hand moved from her face and blood spewed out hitting him. He sat smiling. He was ecstatic. Jack woke again. He began to cry. "I'm not like that" He looked at the mirror on the ceiling. The grinning face laughed. "YES YOU ARE!"

Bruce Wayne awoke with a start. He had fallen asleep in the cave reading police files. He stood and stretched. "I need a bed down here, a cot or something." Alfred appeared out of the shadows. "Yes a bed, then you would never leave this place. You need to get out at night once in a while and not have body armor on."

Bruce smiled. "I will when, lets see, Joker is in jail, the gang wars are over yadda yadda."

Alfred pushed a small cart ahead of him. On it where assorted pastries and a large cup of coffee. The cup had a bright symbol emblazoned on it. Bruce looked at it and smiled. It was a tourist cup sold on the street. It had a city landscape and Batman swinging in the background. "I don't smile like that and I certainly wouldn't want people to stay here."

Alfred smiled. "It was large enough so you did not have to get refills. And it's not breakable; you have a habit of breaking things." Alfred motioned to the other cars in the cave in various state of repair.

"Please get me a suit ready. I am going out for a while." Bruce said over the cup edge. Alfred stopped his duties and looked concerned. "In the daytime?"

Bruce stood and headed for the elevator. "Yes, I need to get a look at Smalley's home in the daylight. I can see better in the light if there are any clues to this "Memories" character."

Alfred tapped a series of buttons on a computer key board. A loud whirring sound echoed. Above, suits slowly lowered on chains. Alfred selected one and began to load the equipment. Everytime he did this he would think. "Is this the last time I will do this. When would that day happen? It is inevitable."

On the other side of the city, Memories sat at a laptop punching buttons. He looked at Norwood with glee in his eyes. "You see its not easy hacking, it's a talent I posses." Norwood groaned, his head flopped up. Memories had scalped the insurance salesman. Blood dripped from the massive wound to the floor where his scalp lay. Memories looked at him sad. "You don't look so good; I keep trying to make points about myself and you sit there and just complain about pain."

Memories walked over and crouched next to Norwood. He placed an ice pick against the bleeding man's temple. "Like I said my point is this." He shoved the ice pick in, and twisted it. Norwood's body convulsed. "I am smarter than them, and I will have my revenge no matter whom or what gets in my way." Leaving the ice pick in Norwood, Memories returned to his laptop. Norwood stared into space. A gob of brain matter fell from the wound. Memories watched it fall and laughed.

Batman stayed to the back roads to get to the crime scene. He hated daylight appearances because either someone wanted an autograph which he never did, or someone wanted a photo, again which he never did. Luckily, he could get to the crime scene without anyone seeing him. Exiting the car, he almost stumbled. "Damn thing is too small, what was Alfred thinking?"

Ahead an officer approached him. He recognized Linda Alcott, by her build, slim and very sexy. Batman smiled as she approached. "You're looking well, and the scar is very small." Alcott smirked. "The surgeons at the hospital said I was lucky. A few centimeters more to the left and I would have a permanent smile."

Batman grimaced at the comment and walked past the officer into the home. "Do you need help?" Alcott yelled. Batman just waved her off, he needed to be alone. Inside, Batman moved carefully as not to disturb anything the crime lab people may have missed. He smiled to himself. "They always miss something." He checked all the rooms other then the actual crime scene. As he approached it, he realized the horror of the event. His moved very cautious, watching each step. An odd pattern was on the floor near some photographs. He looked at the photos closely. The foot patterns seemed to show Memories stood and looked at them. Reaching into his belt, Batman produced a small digital camera and took pictures of the floor and wall photos. As he focused on a part of the floor, he saw a set of small eyes watching him from under a book case. "Well well, a witness, hmmm, wonder how I am going to interrogate you?"

Batman walked to the kitchen looking for cat food. He figured the cat was starving and helping it before he left would cause no delays. He found a can on a shelf and placed it in the can opener. The sound of the opened brought the cat. It hopped onto a counter and sat on its haunches. Batman slid the tin to Shamus and watched it eat. "Now what to do with you, I can't leave you here. Seems even pets can't escape crime."

With care, Batman removed the photos from the wall. He then picked up Shamus and his food. He walked past Alcott who spoke. "Well you found a witness, bet it will break the case." Batman smiled. "I have a weak spot for cats; it's my past, a guy thing."

Alcott shrugged her shoulders and waved good-bye as Batman drove away.

Joker walked quickly towards the elevator. Behind him, Harlee stood in her apartment door in a loose robe. Joker was on the phone to a goon he had under his employment and smiled as the elevator doors opened. He made a blown kiss motion to Harlee as the doors closed. As he exited the apartment complex, Memories watched through binoculars. "Now it's her turn, the pain you have felt up till now is just the beginning."

As Memories exited, he taped the laptop keys loading a program. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a large bayonet. Spinning it in his hand he replaced it in its holder on his side. He laughed and ran across the courtyard.

Batman cruised down Center Street, the car drawing stares from on lookers. Above him, on the side of the Nashcrost building, a chromaquee ad flashed a Miller beer commercial. The ad had the clarity of a television commercial. Watching it, the moving image rolled, and went black. Batman smiled. "Technology, a wall size television and it doesn't work. What next?" Batman was about to leave when the chromaquee ad sparked to life. An image of a burly man in black and gray camouflage appeared riding a motorcycle. He stopped the bike and climbed off. Hello Jack, guess what?" Motioning to the bike, the rider pulled out a small machine-gun and opened fire on the motorcycle. "Im going to kill a …Harley" the rider dropped the gun and began to sing out loud. "Memories, misty water filled with memories…the way we where."

Batman immediately realized what the message was. He roared the car in a controlled U turn and sped away. He spoke to the dash console. "Harleen Quinzell, last know address." The screen popped on with a satellite over head view and flashing directions. Batman careened through the city, heading for the location.

Jack sat in the Toyota at a red light. He looked angry at Rocko O' Riordan. "A freaking Toyota, you pick me up in a Toyota? What happened to my purple Impala?"

Rocko smiled slightly, his shoulders shrugged. "I'm sorry boss, the Toyota was a good deal, gas prices as they were, and the Impala was killing me." As they stopped for a red light, Joker watched the chromaquee message. "Oh no, son of a bitch no!" Rocko caught the message and made a fast left crashing into a mailbox. "I'll kill the mother fucker, I swear."

Harlee was dressed now and milling about the apartment. Jack would be back soon and she needed to have dinner ready. She dreamed a moment about a normal life with him. No crime, no death. But it was not meant to be. With a smile she checked on the dinner and lit a cigarette. The floor in the hallway made a slight creaking sound and she turned to look. Through the peep hole she saw, for just a second, a fist. The door smashed to pieces and hit her backwards into the table. Her face was bruised and bleeding.

She shook her head to clear it as Memories pulled out the bayonet. Her hands where behind her holding the dinner table she had hit. She also felt the rest of the razor playing card deck. Memories surged forward. Harlee backflipped onto the table grabbing the cards as she did. He slashed at her and missed. Harlee spun several cards at him, all hitting him in the arm. Memories screamed. "Arghhhh you fucking bitch!" He pulled the cards out of his bleeding arm and growled. He grabbed the table and up ended it causing Harlee to fall. With a leap he was on her, face to face. He looked in her eyes, "I'm going to enjoy killing you bitch!" Harlee smiled, and brought her knee up between Memories legs. He gagged as his scrotum was smashed. She shoved him off and stood. "Just like men, so tough yet soft where it counts." She turned on her heel and walked toward the door. Memories grabbed her ankle and she fell. He leapt up and drove the bayonet through her thigh and into the floor. She screamed in agony.

Memories stood over her rubbing his genitals. He smiled watching her grab for the knife. She was still screaming as blood poured profusely from the wound. "I bet it hit the femoral artery, means you're going to bleed to death shortly. You don't mind if I watch do you?" Harlee's head fell forward, she was getting groggy. Memories laughed out loud.

Joker arrived at the apartment complex and jumped from the car with Rocko. The elevator was luckily on the bottom floor and the jumped in. The music played as they rose to the tenth floor and it irritated the clown prince. Joker paced and reached for his gun. "My gun, where the fuck is my gun?" Joker grabbed Rocko and opened his coat. "WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR GUN!" Rocko rubbed his head. Its at home, I mean boss you just asked me to pick you up." Joker screamed, but it was drowned out by Harlee's.

Joker and Rocko ran down the hall, Rocko out paced his boss and smashed what was left of the door open. He jumped on Memories and both fell backwards crashing into a glass art work. Joker dropped and grabbed Harlee. She looked up at him and smiled. He grabbed the bayonet and tried to work it free, as he did he yelled at Rocko. "RIP HIM APART, BUT DON'T KILL HIM, I WANT THE MOTHER FUCKER ALIVE!" Rocko stood lifting Memories as he did. He reared back and drove a punch into Memories face. The masked killer shook off the hit and round house punched Rocko. The goons face snapped and he spit out a tooth. Joker finally got the bayonet loose. He picked up Harlee and started for the door. He looked behind as Rocko fell unconscious from a punch to his face. Memories stood looking at Joker.

"I won't kill you yet, but she will die. I want you to feel pain, pain you have never felt." Joker held Harlee closer. "I don't know who you are, but you're killing me before you touch her. Did I piss on your Wheaties or something?"

Memories approached bayonet in hand. Joker turned to put her on a couch and deal with the killer. Memories was about to strike when he heard a sound, something to his right. He glanced quick at the window and saw an odd disk on the glass. As he concentrated, he saw the Bat symbol on it explode. The concussion disk disintegrated the window and tossed Memories backwards. Joker had seen them before and knew what was next, the Bat was here. Batman swung in, kicking the bayonet from his hands and kicking the assailant in the face.

Joker grabbed Harlee and ran for the door. "I don't think I can remember ever being glad to see you, but I am!"

Batman tossed the cord back out the window. Memories regained his footing with a growl from his mask. "You of all people, why would you stop me, you want him dead too!" Batman scowled. "All I want is you in a cell and if you don't cooperate, I will make sure you end up in a hospital."

Memories reached into a small pocket and produced a telescopic baton. With a flick of his wrist, it popped open. Batman smiled. "That is the first stupid thing you have done." Memories spun the baton in his hand and flipped it behind him without looking. The baton struck and broke the gas feed to Harlee's fireplace. Batman could hear the hiss of the gas. Rocko stood groggy and staggered from the apartment. With Batman's attention momentarily on the goon, Memories attacked. A palm strike hit Batman in the chest plate. He was more stunned at the speed than hurt. Memories stopped for a second realizing that Batman was wearing body armor. It was a second Batman needed. The Dark Knight swung a feint to Memories face. The murderer made a blocking motion and Batman struck him in the stomach. Memories doubled over as all the air left his body. Batman brought his right foot up in a simple kick to the face but his foot was caught and he found himself flying through the air and crashing into a breakfast bar. He continued to roll so he would end up on his feet, but Memories was on him fast. Batman found himself in the air; Memories had him by the ears of his cowl and was lifting him. He screamed in Batman's face. "You will die like all the rest, you help him, you die!"

Batman brought his right forearm across Memories chest. The Titanium barbs on the side of the gauntlet slashed his chest open. Memories screamed and fell backwards, letting Batman fall. Batman coughed as the gas filled the apartment, his eyes began to water. Memories held his bleeding chest and staggered to the door. As he did, he reached in his pocket and pulled out something…a flare gun.

Batman dove out the window as Memories ran out, firing the gun as he did. The apartment exploded behind Batman. Catching the rope saved him falling, but flames shot all around him. He swung back landing on a window that exploded as he stepped off it. Batman ran along the side of the building as windows detonated one at a time behind his steps. As he reached the corner of the building, all he could do was let the rope go. He fell fast, his second tether cannon slid around his belt. He grabbed it and fired at a building across from the apartments.

The bronze trident hook smashed through a window and penetrated a fish tank and a wall. The cord sprung taught and he flew towards an open window. He swung into an apartment and crashed onto a scaffold of paint and ladders. It took him a moment to get his bearing. "Paint, it had to be paint." He sat up and looked at himself. "Alfred is so not going to like this."

Joker stood across the street from Gotham General Hospital. He had dropped Harlee off and ran to avoid the police. He stood by a dumpster in an alley and realized he wouldn't know if she lived or died. Looking at his reflection in a puddle, he realized he was smiling. His only friend in the world lay near dead and he smiled. Grabbing his face, Joker pulled at his perpetual smile. He screamed at the top of his lungs in anger. "I AM NOT LIKE THIS!" He staggered down the alley in the rain.

Batman climbed out of the car in the cave. Alfred stood looking at him. "Oyster white, a beautiful color." He reached on the Dark Knights back and pulled a paint brush that had stuck to him. Batman shook his head. "Son of a bitch got away, Joker too." Alfred pulled hairs from Batman's ears on his cowl. "Seems you have met a cat as well."

Batman pointed to the car. Inside a cat lay on the center console sleeping. "Ah a passenger, and what is its name, let me guess…Selena?" Batman looked at Alfred with a smirk. "Shut up." He shrugged off the paint covered cape and walked to his desk. Behind it, a white board stood with all the black and white photos from Smalley's house. On the desk sat more photos of the crime scene. Alfred entered the elevator with the soiled cape. "I will return with cleaning solution for the rest of your suit." Batman smiled. "Thank you Alfred."

Placing a photograph of the floor under a magnifying glass, he tried to follow the foot pattern in the blood. He spoke to himself. "OK, what did you do, where did you walk?" He concentrated on each bloody foot print. Holding the photo, Batman attempted to mimic the foot steps. Alfred returned to find his employer in his jockeys and T shirt walking funny. "If that's a new dance, it is stupid and you will assuredly embarrass yourself." Bruce stopped and looked over his shoulder. "It's not a dance, I am trying to figure out what Memories found so interesting about these photos." Alfred began to pick up the suit pieces lying about. Bruce again glanced at the photo of the floor. He moved his feet here and there and suddenly stopped. Bruce looked at Alfred. "A dance! He was dancing, that's it you're a genius Alfred!" Alfred polished his nails on his tuxedo. "Yes, I have my moments."

Bruce moved quicker stopping now and then. He finally stopped in front of one blood covered picture. He looked closely at it. The photo was of twenty boys standing on the steps of the Gotham Home. One face had no blood on it. It had been wiped away by a gloved fingertip. Bruce worked the photo out of the frame and placed it on the computer scanner. Moving the mouse, he cropped the photo and centered it. "Computer…clarify." The computer beeped and the image blurred a moment, and then returned clear as if new. Alfred noticed something. "He is smiling, the other children are not." Bruce sat back a moment, and thought. Shamus walked across the desk and sat near the monitor.

Alfred stood with his fingers to his chin in thought. "Why not age it, see what he looks like now?" Bruce tapped a series of keys and the image began to age. Facial features elongated, skin wrinkled. Bruce watched then his eyes widened. He hit the mouse key and the program stopped. Alfred looked at him. "Sir, a problem?" Bruce moved the mouse to the "Warping brush" icon. The brush would hold a part of a picture and stretch it in the direction the mouse moved. He placed the arrow on the corners of each mouth and stretched them. They both spoke simultaneously. "The Joker"

Bruce sat back petting Shamus. "So we know what he was looking at but…he also looked at this picture as well." He stood and retrieved a near clean picture. Again twenty boys but all of them had frowns, no cheer. Bruce also removed the picture and looked on its back. Twenty names had been written but no indicator whose name went with who. He placed both pictures back in the frames and sat again. "I will bet, Memories is in that picture, which one, I don't know." Alfred smiled. "We could always age them all. Bruce smirked. "Yes but we need to know which one is him." Shamus walked up on Bruce and looked at him. Bruce looked at Shamus and suddenly stood up holding the cat. "I know which one is Memories!"

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

Warning! 

Warning! This story is rated M for mature. This story contains adult situations, strong language and gore.

I am posting this special writing due to the graphic description of gore and related issues.

Please do not send me any angry e-mails

Warning

Disclaimer: I do not nor would I ever claim to own or control anything about Batman or anything created by Bob Kane. Anything that resembles Batman or anything related to Batman is the sole ownership of those involved. Since I was old enough to go to the local theater and watch the black and white serials of Batman, I have been transfixed by him and his world. I read and researched him and all those he came in contact with. I hope I can bring to the readers a enjoyable adventure, and something new to a character I love.  
WARNING!

Memories

The light switch was hard to find in the dark, but Memories managed to flip it on. The warehouse he lived in came to life as power pulsed into it. He staggered in, blood dripping from a massive chest wound. "Son of a bitch…you fucking arghh." He fell against a table which slid out from under him. He sat there a few minutes dealing with the pain. "I'll see you dead, fucking Batman; you just had to get in the way." Forcing himself to stand, Memories pulled his mask off and flipped it to a nearby table, and fell into a chair. As he did, his foot hit his laptop on the floor. The computer came to life with his image on a motorcycle then of him shooting it. Memories looked away and smiled. "She is dead; no way could she have lived. She bled out all over the place." He looked back at the lap top and kicked it closed. "Only two more to go, and then Jack my friend you will be mine. And your death will be so slow, so slow." Memories stood and pulled off his top. He screamed as the chest wound opened again. He clutched his chest. Blood seeping thru his fingers, "Pain is of the mind…and the mind can be controlled." Memories grabbed a box of gauze and began to treat the wound.

Bruce walked quickly to the pictures on the white board. He grabbed the magnifying glass and looked closely at the picture of Jack Napier. He motioned Alfred over. "See, it's covered in blood but his face is smudged clean. But…under the pictures is a triangular spot that's clean as well." Alfred concentrated and saw the small spot. "Yes, and that tells you what?" Bruce side stepped and pointed to a triangular spot of blood on the clean picture. "There is the blood that was picked up from one picture and transferred to another." Alfred could easily see the small triangle of blood on the clean picture. "What caused it?"

Bruce smiled as he picked up Shamus. "His nose!" Bruce petted Shamus and sat down. "You said I had cat hair on the ears of my mask. The cat never got near my mask…but Memories grabbed me there. He had cat hair on one or both of his gloves and I think, since he is an ego nut, he stuck the cats face on the pictures." Bruce let the cat loose and stood. Shamus trotted to investigate a huge penny leaned against a cavern wall. Bruce concentrated on the clean photo, and then removed it from the frame. Placing the photo on the scanner, he brought to the monitor, the face of Memories.

Joker walked through the night. He only knew of one more person who he dearly loved. And if he knew it, so did Memories. A hooker stood in an alcove to stay out of the rain. Joker saw her and smiled as he slipped up on her unnoticed, "Hello sweetie, I don't suppose you have a cell phone I could use a second?" The hooker was about to return a smart comment but stopped when she turned and saw the Joker. She didn't make a sound as she handed a small phone to him but could not stop herself from staring at his face. Joker caught her looking. "What my smile? He turned his head slightly, "I'm just one happy mother fucker." He dialed Rocko and arranged a pick up. With a slow sensual hand, his eyes on hers, Joker pulled the silk blouse open and dropped the cell phone between the hooker's breasts. She turned away from him, not saying a word, praying he would leave her alone. Quite frankly, he scared her to death. Jack moved away and she let a sigh of relief softly out. It took an hour, but Rocko arrived and picked up his boss.

Memories stood looking at photos he had taken. "He will be here and the other there. And Batasshole will have to come this way and park here." Memories turned and walked to a large bowl filled with water sitting on a table. He dipped his hands in it and splashed his face, or what was left of his face. He looked at the gapping maw where his nose and top lip should have been.  
He remembered the torture, the constant persecution. He was eight and had been at the home a year. He loved her; she was perfect she could be his mother. His real mother had tossed him from a moving car as they passed the Home. He tumbled and struck his face on the curbstone. The doctors could do nothing but remove damaged tissue and bone that had fragmented. But she was there all the time, checking on him, holding his hand. Then when he returned to the home, it all changed. She had no time for him; she was always with the others. She was his, she was his new Mom. She ignored him; she would pay with her life someday.

And then there was Jack. Never a moment of peace, no rest he thought as he made his way to where the wall mirror was. The entire time making jokes about his face. When the home got enough money for a prosthetic piece, Jack stole it. When he found it, it was smashed. Three others followed, all to be destroyed by Jack. When he finally got a useable one, the worst thing had happened. He sat with a beautiful girl named Pauline Mitchell in a park. She was breathtaking, his face was normal to her, he was in love. But one evening, Jack appeared with some of his friends. While the friends grabbed his arms and held him down. Jack grabbed the girl, she screamed, but Jack held her firm. "Go ahead; pull it off, let her see." A hand grabbed the device and ripped it free. She screamed and screamed shaking as Jack forced her face to his deformity, then he turned her loose and she ran as fast as she could away without a look back. He shut his eyes for a moment in pain of that memory, and then smashed his fist on the table below the mirror. Yeah, he would make Jack pay, pay dearly for all the trouble he had caused.

Memories gazed in the in the mirror. He reached for the device he wore. It was made of iron and thick rubber. Carefully, he snapped it to metal rods imbedded in his skull. "Tonight, Jack, it's over."

Bruce used a computer program to age the photo then printed a copy of the original and of the one he had aged. Alfred looked at the back. "His name is Millard Carter." Bruce looked at the photo again. "The only person I can think of Joker would want to protect other then Harlee, is Bart Peetey." Alfred's eyebrow rose. "Bent Nose B.Peety, why?" Bruce stood and pulled a fresh suit down and began to put it on. "He and Joker grew up together, they formed the Black Mohaska gang and he helped Jack when he was known as the "Red Hood". He bails Jack out all the time and still hides him if I am looking for him." Alfred retrieved new equipment for his friend. "Besides, if Memories doesn't show, I know Joker will." Batman swung his cape around him and climbed into the car. Alfred waved as Batman pulled away. "Good luck sir."

Joker walked into B. Peetey's Bar. The business had seen better days but it was a living now for a retired gangster. As he entered, Joker laughed as several drunks saw him and stood and exited quickly. "I still can clear a room!" Bart stood behind the bar sweating, a monkey wrench in hand. "So you don't give a hug to an old friend!" Joker screamed. Bart dropped the wrench and laughed. "Jack you pasty faced chump!" The old gangster limped around the bar and hugged his old friend. Joker hugged his pal and tossed off his coat. "What's with the wrench?" Bart pointed to the drain under his sink. "Damn thing has leaked over a week, I can't afford a plumber. The place just doesn't get customers like it used too." Joker sat at the bar and sighed. "Yeah, you remember when you and I beat the crap out of Harvey Dent?" Bart laughed and coughed. "Yeah I only hit him on his good side of his face." Bart handed Joker a long neck beer. "What's wrong Jack, you look down in the dumps, and with a mug like yours that aint easy." Joker sipped the beer and told Bart what was happening in his life.

Batman cruised up an alley a block from Barts. He reached to his side and retrieved a pair of binoculars. As he did, the photo of the two dead children caught in the gang war fell to the floor. He looked at it and slid it under the seat. He brought the specs to his eyes and concentrated on the bar. He could make out Joker through the window and what must have been Bart. As he watched, something got in his line of sight. He lowered the binoculars and saw Memories standing in the street. He was looking at the bar, then slowly turned and looked at Batman. With exaggerated motion, Memories pointed his finger up above Batman. Without opening the canopy, Batman turned his head and saw a truck balanced on the roof of the parking garage he was parked next to.

Memories pressed a small button on a remote in his hand. A small charge detonated and the truck fell. It crashed on top of the car and crushed the canopy, remaining on top in an awkward angle. Memories laughed and dropped the remote. He then picked up two M-16's and walked to the bar.

Joker watched the truck fall on Batman's car. He laughed and reached in his pocket and grabbed a notebook. He wrote some notes and laughed. "Damn, I should have thought of that." Bart watched over Jokers shoulder. "Is that the punk been hassling you?" Joker nodded. Bart limped to the bar and grabbed a Thompson Machine gun. He tossed it to Joker and grabbed another for himself. Joker caught it and smiled. "Old Emily, god I missed you so, and still as clean as ever." Bart pulled back the cocking bolt and grinned. "Well, if the chump wants a fight, we give em one." Joker laughed out loud. "Hell yes, like old times." Both men aimed and opened fire through the window. Memories took cover and returned fire.

Batman was pressed against the center console. Above him, the truck shifted and made a grinding noise. The canopy was an inch above him and straining to hold the weight. Pushing his hand free, Batman tapped the touch screen on the forward console. The screen lit a moment then displayed a computer generated over view of the car. As he looked at the screen, the reflection formed his father. "Why are you doing this son?" Batman no longer feared the image, now he was angry. He looked at the picture of the children which had slid out from under his seat, then back at his father. "Because someone has to." The image smiled, and vanished. Batman tapped the dash area of the image. The screen changed to a view of the cockpit area. On the image was a steering wheel logo. He tapped it and a remote steering screen came on. Searching with his left foot, Batman found the jet engine ignition switch.

Memories emptied magazine after magazine into the bar. In a moment he would be out of ammo. He retrieved a small grenade from his pocket and pulled the pin. Holding the activator spoon, Memories waited till the shooting died down. Joker and Bart held their fire waiting to see what Memories would do. Joker heard the window crash as a grenade bounced in front of him. Bart dove pushing Joker over a table a moment before it exploded filling the entire bar with debris. Joker coughed and waved his hand to clear some of the dust away as he regained his footing and saw his old friend lying in a crumpled heap, dead. He walked over to his friend and dropped to his knees. Holding him, he watched as Memories walked in.

The jet engine's quick start canisters flared causing the jet to scream alive. Batman adjusted the conical exhaust for maximum power. He elbowed the throttle arm upward to full thrust. The alley behind the car lit up pink, as JP-4 jet fuel burned. Garbage cans and debris flew everywhere. The car lurched forward, the truck still on top. Batman controlled the steering and aimed the car at Barts bar. The jet reached its full thrust and Batman found himself rocketing down the street.

Memories pulled his mask off as he slowly walked towards Jack. Joker saw the deformed face and cackled laughter. "Well well, if it aint Millard, I see you got a new face, funny I did too!" Memories didn't smile. "Still the joking chump, but again, it's not your time to die. Soon, very soon." Joker lowered Bart to the floor and stood, brushing himself off. "You pansy ass, you couldn't take it then, and you can't take it now. Hurt everyone I care about but no guts to deal with me." Memories aimed the assault rifle at him. Joker slowly reached up and placed his hand on the flash suppressor of the muzzle. "You better shoot me in the head." Joker raised the barrel, and touched his joy buzzer to the metal. A bolt of electricity shot down the gun and knocked Memories backwards. Joker laughed. "You where always a sucker. What a dimwit." Memories shook his head and regained his composer. "Not yet, clown, there is still one more." Memories turned to leave and his eyes widened in terror.

Batman controlled the steering as best he could. The car was moving faster then he anticipated and it careened all over the road. He had his foot on the brake but if it would stop, that was the question. The jet fuel was almost exhausted and he needed to get to the bar and not stop short. A pot hole caused the car to jar, and the canopy gave way a little more. Batman was now pinned in place; his foot was all he could move. At the last moment, he stomped on the brake and the car screeched to a stop. The truck flew off the roof and hurled into the bar.

Memories screamed as the truck crashed through the bar door. He spun to move but the truck hit him knocking him into the air. He landed on top of the bar and fell behind it. Joker pulled the notepad from his pocket and scribbled on the notes. "Figures, oh well, it was a thought." Memories struggled to his feet. His arm and chest burned in agony. He screamed at Joker. "You will die you bastard, I promise!" With a grunt of pain, he ran through a back door. Joker turned as Batman entered. The harlequin of hate slowly fell to his knees and held his friend Bart. Batman shook his head. "Its over Jack, I will deal with Memories and your going back to Arkam." Joker slowly stood, he was sad and not in the mood to argue. As he did, Rocko and several henchmen arrived. They piled out of the Toyota and ran into what was left of the bar. Joker motioned them to stop. "Harlee is she …ok?" Batman took a deep breath. "She will live, she lost a lot of blood, but she is tough." Joker almost fell in relief. "Look, you and I, we have had our differences, you and I are like symbiotic. I am chaos, you are cohesive thought. We can keep doing this and the asshole will keep getting away. I have a deal for you Bat's." Batman was about to speak, then Joker told him the deal…and Batman listened.

Memories struggled to control his Harley Davidson. He almost fell off as he drove into his warehouse. Stopping the bike, he pushed the kickstand down and climbed off with a scream of pain. "Oh god, it hurts, oh shit!" Blood was now dripping from his chest wound and he knew he had several broken ribs. He moved to a table with a folder. Opening it, he looked at a photo of a man in a business suit. "Last one and it will be the best one. Jack if you only knew!" As he closed the folder he heard a noise. Whirling he faced the Dark Knight. Batman walked from the shadows, his photo from the boy's home in his hand. "Hello Millard, its time to go to jail." Memories tore the mask from his face. "How? How the fuck did you find me?" Batman dropped the photo and pulled a pair of Smith and Wesson handcuffs out. "I have connections, trust me. You did everything to cover your location but I knew you had to get around somehow. So I had Officer Alcott arrive at the area of Barts bar early. She saw your motorcycle and put a tracer on it. Kind of dumb to register it with handicapped plates in your name."

Millard shook slightly as his anger exploded. "I will die before you will take me anywhere." Batman listened to the sound in the air. "Hear the siren, that's your ride to your new home." Millard spun and ran to a window. As he did Batman ran after him and tackled him. They both crashed through and fell into the river as rain poured down on them. Batman had no time to do anything as Millard pummeled him. Blows hit him all over as Memories frenzied to get away. Batman was now under water with Millard kicking him and he had to do something. Reaching his belt, Batman activated the slide mechanism. A Tether cannon slid around from the small of his back and into his hand. He had one chance and if he missed, he would drown.

Millard screamed as he tried to get away. "I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!" Batman fired the cannon. The bronze trident hook sped through the water and hit a piece of dock. Batman grabbed Memories and held him tight. The auto retract motor of the tether pulled them both rapidly through the water. Memories was blinded by the water as he gasped for air. Batman shoved him upward the dock hit Millard in the face knocking him out cold. The Dark Knight slid under the wooden supports. Batman hit the quick release and floated to the surface. As he floated, he saw Memories sink beneath the water. Batman dove under and grabbed him. His weight was dragging him and Batman under and he didn't think he could save him. Suddenly, hands grabbed Memories and Batman and hauled them both out.

Officer Alcott and an army of police stood on the docks. Batman looked at her. "Thank you." Alcott smiled. "Let's just say I owed you." Batman watched as several police personnel carried the unconscious Millard to a police wagon. The Dark Knight nodded to them as they drove off.

Batman walked down the hall in Arkam. Millard walked next to him in high security chains. Millard laughed. "I will be out in no time, I am insane and no prison will hold me. I talk to the shrinkin two weeks and when I do, I will be out of here. Maybe get me a nice cell at one of those resort prisons." Batman smiled. "Well that's two weeks, and I hope you get the help you need." A guard opened a high security cell door. Batman shoved Millard inside. "By the way, meet your roomy." Millard staggered into the dark and saw the silhouette. Joker screamed with laughter. "Hi roomy, we are gonna have fun, lots of fun!" Batman walked away as he heard Millard scream. Over the screaming, Joker yelled. "You got a deal Bat's hell yes you got a deal!"

Batman sat on a roof top. The city was quiet with no more gang wars. A call from Joker to certain gang leaders and it was all over. No gang leader in his or her right mind would cross Joker. A deal with the devil he had made. But a deal he could live with. Millard went to the doctor's crazy, and this time he was crazy. Joker had that sort of effect on you.

Batman made his way back to the cave. He went to his desk and pulled off his mask. He looked down at a file he had found at Millards warehouse. The file was of a young man living in New York. He looked like a business man and had a small home in upper state. Batman saw the resemblance in the mans face. With a thoughtful look on his face he wondered what to do about it. Did he have the right to keep such information from Joker? Did this man need to learn something he may regret? Batman knew this was the last victim, the last Memories would kill. He slid the folder in a safe and closed it. He would let sleeping dogs lie and some memories fade away.

The city would sleep. Safe for now…and the legend lives on.

I want to thank my friends Debbie and her daughter Chris for all their help in my story. Without their support, I would never have written this. I took many liberties in this story and I hope Batman fans will not be offended. To the late Mr. Bob Kane, thank you for all my…memories.


End file.
